


Domesticity

by m0usielous1e



Series: Easy Domesticity [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 06:09:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11708421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m0usielous1e/pseuds/m0usielous1e
Summary: Moving in together is a big step...and not one without some issues.





	Domesticity

Paul had always thought that his and Daryl’s first major fight would be the other man’s fault. Daryl hated showers, skinned his kills on the picnic table or trailer’s front steps and had some truly appalling table manners. Paul had even scripted his responses to whatever arguments he thought the other man would throw at him. And then Daryl came back one morning to pick up a water bottle he had forgotten and tripped over Paul’s boots for the third, straight time.

“God damn it, Paul! Why the hell do you leave these things in the middle of the damn doorway?”

Paul, still wearing just the sweatpants he had pulled on when Daryl rolled out of bed, thus forcing him to get up as well, paused his morning kata to look at his boyfriend. Daryl was not even looking at him, but was already on his way back out with the water bottle. Paul sputtered, “What? Hey, what?”

Daryl stopped in the doorway again and looked back at him, gaze narrowed in irritation, and replied, “Your boots. You can’t keep leaving them in the doorway. They’re a tripping hazard man.”

Warning delivered, he turned to leave again. Paul dropped his leg, straightened and said, “They’re not in the middle of the doorway. You need to watch where you’re putting your feet. Just move them to the side a little if they’re bothering you so much.”

Daryl stumbled on the steps, then turned back and snapped, “Hey, I’m not trying to argue with you. Just put away your boots better. What if you trip and break your neck? Stupid way to die, ain’t it?”

Paul blinked at him, stunned at scold, and felt his hackles rise. No way was Daryl Dixon talking to him like he was some little kid. Not once ever during the many months of Paul’s painstaking efforts to coax the other man into a relationship, had Daryl ever hinted that he thought Paul was a child to him. And yet, here they were. Paul glared back at him and said, “I don’t see what the big deal is. They’re not in the middle of the doorway, they’re to the side. It’s not my fault you don’t look at where you’re going. Why don’t you try that instead?”

Daryl scoffed, shook his head and walked out. Paul blinked at the empty doorway a few times more, then walked over and slammed the door shut. “Why don’t you try closing the door on your way out? You don’t have a servant!”

It took less than ten minutes for the shame to set in. He had not meant to say half of that, and it was kind of unfair. Daryl never left any of his stuff just lying around the trailer. He would remove his mud or walker-blood splattered clothing outside and leave them there with his smelly boots until he could clean them later. When the summer heat brought the flies out, Daryl started cleaning his kills near where he caught them and brought only the meat in for the cooks at Barrington. And he showered way more than Carol and the others used to complain he did, not least because sometimes Paul joined him now, to conserve water of course. Daryl went out of his way to accommodate Paul, the least he could do in return was not make a fuss over where he left his damn boots.

He tried for ten minutes more to resume his morning workout, if just to clear his head, but he couldn’t. He had to go talk to Maggie.

He found Maggie and Enid in her office, with the teen girl playing with baby Herschel on the floor. As soon as Paul walked in, Herschel squealed with delight and reached for him with pudgy fingers. Paul scooped him up from the floor, nuzzled his face a little and smiled. The baby gurgled delightedly and Maggie said, “Okay, what did you do?”

“Why do you think I did anything?” asked Paul, not looking at her.

“You get extra cuddly with my baby whenever you’re upset,” Maggie pointed out. “He is a human being, not a security blanket. I’ve told you and Daryl that a thousand times…though I suppose Glenn would be thrilled to know his son is a peacekeeper.”

Paul decided not to dignify that with a response.

“He and Daryl had a fight this morning,” supplied Enid unhelpfully, from the floor.

Paul glared at her. She laughed and said, “Everyone heard the yelling, and then when you slammed the door. Daryl kind of jumped a little when you did.”

“What?” Maggie exclaimed, standing up, hands on her hips and glaring.

Paul cradled the baby a little closer to his chest, not at all shy of using the child as a shield. Maggie lifted an eyebrow. He sighed and mumbled, “It’s nothing, it’s stupid. He was telling me about leaving my boots lying around—which they weren’t, by the way, I kept them out of the doorway—and I…didn’t take it well. I’m going to apologise later.”

“You better,” said Maggie, still glaring at him, though she relaxed the hands at her sides. “You know Daryl is not exactly a neat freak but he would not have said anything if it wasn’t bothering him.”

“I know, I know,” said Paul, looking down at the baby, who now had grasped onto his beard and was pulling it to get his attention. “I feel…I don’t know, I can’t believe I got so upset about something so little.”

Maggie dropped back into her seat and Paul took this as his cue to take the chair opposite hers. Herschel turned at once to his mother, and reached for the desk. Maggie smiled at the baby without taking him and said, “I hate to overanalyse things, but I have to ask, is there something bothering you?”

Paul shook his head, jiggling Herschel a little on one leg to distract him from the desk, and then said, “Maybe? I thought he was scolding me.” The shame as he said these things made his skin crawl. His face, neck and arms had warmed considerably, but he ploughed on, “I’ve dated older guys before, one was actually for the money and just…never tell him about that one, okay?” Maggie nodded and waved for him to continue. “We have a good thing going. I just…I don’t know why this morning I just felt like he was talking down to me and it made me so mad.”

Maggie considered his words in silence for a time while Paul sat quietly, trying to entertain Herschel. Enid was uncharacteristically quiet as well, so Carl was sure to hear about this when he arrived, which meant that soon, Rick and Michonne were going to be on Paul’s case. Damn it to hell. What the hell was wrong this morning? And then Maggie said, “I’m no expert but it seems pretty clear that you have some issues with Daryl being older than you. What were you guys talking about this morning?”

“We didn’t talk about anything this morning,” said Paul, thinking about how they were otherwise preoccupied. 

“Eww,” said Enid.

“How about last night?” asked Maggie, ignoring Enid.

Paul actually had to think about it a bit. He and Daryl had been together all day, except for separate wall shifts, carrying out various chores around the Hilltop. They had shared their meals, joking with each other the whole time, and then gone back to the trailer together, shared a bath and, exhausted, lay cuddling until they fell asleep. Had they talked about anything age-related during that time? Not that Paul could recall. Had Daryl said anything specific to him? Called him “kid”? Paul didn’t think so either. He shook his head and said, “Nah, maybe we’re making too much of this. I’m just moody this morning.”

He looked up to find Maggie staring at him. He dropped his gaze to Herschel and said, “Your Mommy thinks I’m holding something back, but that’s not true. I tell her everything. I even told her about me and your Uncle Daryl getting together so your Uncle Rick wouldn’t kick my ass.”

Maggie laughed and said, “Rick has to come all the way from Alexandria to kick your ass. I’m right here. It’s just, maybe it is nothing. Just apologise when he gets back and move on. You know by now how things go when you move in with someone. It’s an adjustment for the both of you.”

“I’d like to point out that I just had to clear space in my closet—which he’s barely used, mind—and he had to leave his town. I should be more accommodating, maybe,” said Paul.

“Yeah, a little, but that does not invalidate any issues you might have either. You told me how you lived before you met us, this is a big adjustment for you too,” said Maggie. “Do try to be considerate and don’t let him think he can walk all over you.”

Paul gave a mild nod and said, “I’ll talk to him later. It really was a silly thing to be mad over.”

Daryl did not return before dark, so Paul had spent the entire day feeling increasingly terrible about how he had acted that morning. He tried to bolster himself with the argument that yeah, he had had to get used to a live-in boyfriend again, but he could not remember ever really getting this upset with them either. Not that he should use his experience for an example…he had been a bit of an asshole in the past. In fact, he may have even laughed out loud at an ex’s complaint about his book-stacking habit. He dropped his head into his hands and groaned out loud. The shame was so bad, he was sure his whole body was on fire. And then the door opened and Daryl walked in.

There was a pause, a moment’s hesitation that suggested either that Daryl was looking for the errant boots or waiting for Paul to throw something at him. Paul did not look up from where he sat at the table but waved a hand and said, “I moved them. I’m sorry. I got a shoe rack from the house so we shouldn’t have to worry about anyone’s shoes, ever.”

More silence. Confused, Paul lifted his head and looked over to where Daryl was standing in the door. The other man had come all the way in and closed the door behind him. He had removed his shoes and coat too, which suggested another of those messier days, and washed most of the blood off, outside. But what really drew Paul’s attention, was the look on his face. Daryl looked, to put it mildly, wary.

Paul sat up straighter and asked, “Daryl? Something happen?”

Daryl stared at him for a beat, visibly relaxed and replied, “Nah.” He pulled himself from the door and joined him at the table, where he deposited their share of the haul. Paul glanced at it for a moment, then again when he realised what he was seeing.

He started grinning despite himself, and said, “I told you, I’m really sorry and I mean it. You didn’t have to bring me anything. Not that I’m going to give this back even though I don’t deserve it after being a total jerk this morning.”

“It’s not because of that,” said Daryl, voice low. “I thought…I wanted to do something nice.”

Paul shook his head, insistent. “You got a bibliophile more books—including a few romances from my favourite author, did you raid bookstore?—do you realise how much I love you right now? I was considering it before but I am definitely sucking you off after dinner.”

Daryl’s eyes went wide, his cheeks stained crimson, and Paul leaned in to whisper, “You should definitely eat dinner first. I feel really, really terrible.”

Daryl’s brow furrowed and he tried to protest, “I don’t know much about relationships but I do know that you’re not supposed to just use…that to make up for stuff.”

Paul nodded, and meeting his gaze said, “Yup. But you brought me books.”

Daryl stood up at once, abruptly, face redder than before, but Paul grasped hold of his arm and said, “You know you’re not a bother, right? I want you here.”

“I know,” said Daryl, eventually, and he let a hint of a smile form on his face. Paul resisted the urge to release a relieved sigh. Then Daryl added, smile turning a little mischievous, “I also know you hate people telling you what to do. I didn’t take it to mean you don’t want me around.”

Paul nodded and loosened his grip, slid his hand down to Daryl’s and entwined their fingers. Daryl gave it a gentle squeeze and Paul said, “Two months together and I guess we’re still getting used to each other.”

Daryl pulled away to go to the bathroom, calling over his shoulder as he went, “Yeah, slob.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was thinking this morning that I have very rarely written my OTP in an established relationship, so this is my attempt at one. Also, I can apparently write on Fridays now, and yay for that...I guess? That should make the Desus AU Challenge a bit wild...


End file.
